


Behave Yourself

by meikuree (rillarev)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Relationship, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillarev/pseuds/meikuree
Summary: When Annie pushed open the door to the dormitory on a Sunday afternoon, a fragrance she had never before encountered wafted towards her.Pieck shows Annie a thing or two about beauty.
Relationships: Annie Leonhart/Pieck
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Behave Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Behave Yourself](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25297828) by [TheLunatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLunatic/pseuds/TheLunatic). 



> Summary and additional tags added by translator.

When Annie pushed open the door to the dormitory on a Sunday afternoon, a fragrance she had never before encountered wafted towards her. It reminded her of various things: a spring flowing on a summer evening, dewdrops finely condensed upon lotus flowers, and rays of moonlight streaming through drops of water. But it was a distinct type of aroma that had undoubtedly been mixed through the meticulous work of men. The gentle yet exquisite aroma smelled strange to Annie’s nose, which was used instead to the smells of metal and soil. She felt like a barbarian used to living in squalor, whose every inch of skin, now wrapped in silk clothes, was clamouring from discomfort; the fragrance was tormenting her nostrils in the same fashion. Annie knitted her brows, and at the same moment her roommate sitting at the window noticed her and turned her head to give her a cheerful smile.

“Pieck, what smell is that?” Annie walked inside the building, throwing her bag on the chair.

“Ah, are you talking about my perfume?” Pieck was quick to reply. “Apologies, is it unpleasant?”

“Not really…” Annie hesitated for a moment, “Perfume… what's that?”

“It’s a type of liquid that can preserve fragrances. It lets you give out an aroma if you spray it on yourself,” Pieck explained. “I heard it’s all the rage outside these days. My father had a just about half-filled bottle. Said my mother loved to use it at the time. When I returned this time, he took it out for me to use and said not to waste it, since I was at the age where I could use perfume.”

With a sudden motion, Pieck rose gracefully to step in front of her, whereupon she brushed her long hair to the side to reveal her fair neck, and smiled at her: “Want to come closer to smell it?”

Annie was momentarily dumbstruck and spooked by this unexpected undevelopment; but she had no objections and so, a little awkwardly, moved closer to Pieck’s nape. She had never been this close to another person from her recollection. When the tip of her nose caught a whiff of the fragrance, she felt the warmth from the skin of the young girl before her radiating onto her cheek. It felt foreign to her, as if this was her first time realising that people gave off heat. A feeling of wonder crawled up her fingertips bit by bit from her heart. Before she could react she found herself gripping Pieck’s shoulders, the soft and warm flesh there a great contrast from her frigid frame.

“Do you like it?” Pieck asked gently, with some amusement. 

“I… I don't dislike it,” she answered as if frightened, quickly releasing her hand from Pieck’s shoulder. 

“It’s just a pity it can’t be brought over. It’ll definitely get confiscated if it’s discovered during a check,” Pieck said with some regret. Annie noticed just then that Pieck was wearing a dress she was seeing for the first time, one with fine lace sewn onto the skirt. 

“You haven't changed into your uniform…” Annie said as she stepped back slightly from Pieck. 

“There's no rush to change tonight. There probably won’t be anyone coming to do a check.” Pieck batted her eyelashes, her smile cunning. “I want to wear my own clothes for a while more. Wouldn't you feel the same, Annie?”

“It doesn't really matter to me,” she replied, while tidying up her things. She stuffed the few clothes she owned into a cabinet.

“You don't like wearing skirts, Annie?” Pieck leaned against the table, seeming like she wanted to make some small talk with her.

“They’re troublesome,” Annie replied a little gruffly without turning her head. She knew Pieck wouldn't mind; she seemed to have never seen Pieck being angry or distressed. She had always been able to befriend anyone. She could never be like Pieck and be a child who was well-liked by people. But there were occasions when Annie suspected that Pieck was not as well-behaved and docile as she appeared. She could not understand Pieck. In fact, she also didn’t want to understand anyone. 

“Perhaps you could try it once? I bet you would look good wearing a dress. You're quite a beauty after all, Annie,” Pieck said with a smile.

She didn't know how to respond for a while. Nobody had said before that she was good-looking, or that she was a pretty child, or anything else like that. Since she could remember, she had been living together with her father. She rarely had dealings with other people. Her exchanges with her father involved more fists and kicks than words; he never commented on anything about her besides her fighting skills. But even in Marley’s barracks, she had heard people remarking more than once that Pieck was a particularly endearing child. Marleyan officers, soldiers at the campsite, and soldier candidates from the same year group as them all counted among those who said these things. Deep down inside, she could admit that Pieck was indeed adorable, even if she had never said so aloud to her. 

A silver of a complicated emotion gripped her throat. Annie faced the closet, unconsciously folding the already neat and smooth creases of her clothes over and over again. She didn't know how she ought to reply. That very moment, the brief sound of knocking at the door rescued her from her embarrassed silence; Zeke’s voice was coming from outside the door. Pieck ran to answer it, but Zeke soon left after saying just a few words. 

Annie made use of the pause to swiftly close the closet door and sit on her bed. But she had nothing to do; there was little in the way of recreation prepared for them within Marley’s barracks, as if Marley had deemed them undeserving of enjoying any leisure. With no other option, Annie picked up a book on the table. It was one that Pieck had lent to her. Pieck seemed to keep many books of suspect origin. 

“Annie, how are you finding that book? Is it interesting?” Pieck said with a smile upon seeing Annie reading the book when she returned. She seemed to be holding something small in her hand.

“Frankly, I don't quite understand this sort of story,” Annie said without lifting her gaze. “A little girl is born in a small hotel, ignorant about who her biological father is; then she’s sold into slavery, beaten half to death for wanting to draw a rose on her face, and resolves to escape afterwards. Isn't that stupid?” she narrated in an unchanging voice. Pieck sat at one side on the table, tilting her head slightly as she listened.

“It can't exactly be worth it just for a rose,” Annie said.

“I believe she simply wanted to prove her own existence, since the slave trader wanted to make everyone exactly the same— to shave their hair in the same way, to wear the same clothes, and do exactly the same things as everyone else,” Pieck answered.

“Besides, isn't it only natural for girls to want to look pretty?” Pieck batted her eyelashes at her.

“I don’t think there’s any need for that,” Annie said calmly, “would it even change anything?”

“It probably wouldn’t change much.”

“It'd be enough to just exist.”

“That’s true too.”

Pieck leapt gracefully off the table as she finished speaking. By the time Annie could react, Pieck was lying like a cat beside her bed, extending a palm with a round tube atop it towards her. 

“What’s this?” Annie asked.

“It’s called a lipstick. I heard every woman in Marley has one; they come in many, many colours. Putting it on the lips can help girls look more attractive. I asked Zeke to sneak it in for me,” Pieck said as she opened it, “would you like to try it, Annie?”

“No, I...“

“Just try it once!”

“How do you...“

“I’ll help you!”

Seeing that she had no apparent intention to resist, Pieck moved to cradle Annie’s face in her hands. Annie’s eyelashes briefly trembled. For a moment, she knew not where to rest her gaze. Pieck was so very close to her, for the second time in the brief span of this afternoon, and it made her even more unsure of what to do with herself. It was fortunate that Pieck wasn't looking at her eyes; she was instead holding that thing called a lipstick and attentively pressing closer to her lips. There was a mild coolness as Annie felt something being applied to her mouth. Pieck was showing a serious expression, one reminiscent of the meticulous care she gave to maintaining her guns. Annie thought Pieck was a good sharpshooter, and that the way she held her gun was enthralling. She didn't know why she was thinking of such irrelevant things right now.

She held her breath, such that Pieck’s every movement was thrown into sharp relief within her senses, and every second stretched on intolerably for her. Just when she could bear it no longer and was about to say something, Pieck let go of her and said, “Mm, it looks good.”

Pieck moved backwards two paces, and gazed at her as if she was admiring her own handiwork. It made Annie feel self-conscious. But Pieck was soon bringing over a mirror to hold up before Annie: “What do you think?”

The mirror showed a young girl with lips that, in contrast to their former paleness, now had a rose-coloured hue blooming upon them. It was a striking yet soft shade of red. Her whole face had been given a look of vivid beauty, through what indeed seemed like the work of some mysterious magic. She had never before seen herself like this, with an appearance that felt far too strange to herself. She extended a dumbfounded hand, unsure if she wanted to touch the mirror’s surface or her own lips. 

“What do you think?” Pieck asked again, seeing her hesitation at answering.

She gazed for a long time at herself in the mirror, then shook her head. Pieck briefly sensed what seemed to be the slightest hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, but it was soon gone in a fleeting second, and she was left doubting her own eyes. 

“No, this doesn’t really suit me.”

Her fingertips touched the red lips in the mirror at last, but all she could feel was a sweeping coldness.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading this, consider leaving kudos/comments for the original author on either the original fic or this work!


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